The world as seen by a TV comedy writer

February 2007

February 18, 2007

If there was ever an example of “what’s wrong with this picture?” it was me last week at the SPORTS ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT MODEL party in Los Angeles. It was held on the night of my birthday and I went because, well…because I don’t feel old ENOUGH.

A good friend of mine works for SI and invited me. I figured, what the hell? Free drinks and maybe I could get a few of the swimsuit models to be guest bloggers (movie reviews, Iraq war analysis, Lisa Curran vs. Vix swimwear)

The bash was held at the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood. If the nearby Beverly Center indoor mall is known as the “gray whale”, the Pacific Design Center is the big blue box it came in. A giant tent was set up (or, in this case – “erected”) in the courtyard and carpeting was set down (or “laid”).

Wasn’t sure how to dress for this. Decided against the suit I donned for the Rosenstock bat mitzvah. Settled on the slacks and sweater I wore to the FX pitch meeting. They’re a hip network, right?

Still, I felt out of place. Was it my shoes, my leather jacket, or the fact that I was the only man there who brought his wife?

But at least I didn’t have a pony tail.

Big surprise: the party was 75% guys, all preening like peacocks, all trying to look so cool, all hoping no one would notice that it was Valentine’s Day so how well could they be doing if they were alone at a party to ogle supermodels? Dead giveaway #1: the posturing dorks who were on their cellphones. Like they could be heard over the music, which was played at the threshold of pain. Dead giveaway #2: the losers who brought cameras. Pictures for their wallet to go along with the condom that’s been in there since the Clinton administration.

At one point each swimsuit model was introduced. There were little escalating pedestals set up around the tent, a la Gold Medal ceremonies at the Olympics. Every girl was named Fernanda or Daniella. “From the Brazil shoot – Fernanda Motta, Fernanda Tavares, Daniella Sarahyba!” One by one they took their places, squeezing onto the small disc shaped platforms, each wearing a sheer gown that proclaimed in its elegance, “a thousand dollars an hour”.

I was expecting a tasteful moment of silence for Ana Nicole but alas, none was observed.

The highlight of the evening was the introduction of the SI swimsuit edition cover girl – Beyonce. The digital cameras were a’ clickin’, the pony tails a’spinnin’. Beyonce was beautiful and charming and had that fetching look of “get me the fuck out of here!”

A few former swimsuit models were also in attendance. How tragic must it feel to be over by 29? However, their shame and heartbreak was relieved somewhat by every guy in the tent hitting on them.

I’m actually friends with one “hall of famer”, Stacey Williams. Okay, maybe not close friends, but she knows me well enough to confuse me with someone else she sort of knows. Seriously, Stacey’s a sweetheart and now doing quite well as a consultant for environmental concerns. There IS life after Tahiti. We chatted for about ten minutes. She told me what she was up to, I bragged about creating SEINFELD, 24, and FAMILY GUY.

None of the Fernandas or Daniellas would agree to guest blog for me. Even after I offered them candy.

After about an hour we decided to leave. Stepped outside and was just about to walk the red carpet back to the valet when a huge gust of wind blew the red carpet away. The metaphor did not go unnoticed.

Worth repeating, with producers scrambling to cast their pilots, here's a true story that happened to us:

In 1993 my partner David and I were casting a pilot for CBS called BIG WAVE DAVE’S.One of the parts was for Jack.If you haven’t already, read yesterday’s post with a description of Jack and the sides we used for the audition.And now prepare yourself for RC.That’s not his real name but will do for our purposes.

Our office was on the Paramount lot.Our first floor window looked out at Gower Avenue.To set the scene, we were on the couch.To our left was the window to Gower.To our right was Sheila Guthrie, our casting director.Directly across from us was a chair for the actor and the door to our outer office where our assistant and other actors waited.That particular day we were seeing Jacks and Karens.The Karen role would eventually go to Jane Kaczmarek but that day there were maybe six other talented actresses set to read.

Normally the casting director goes out into the waiting room, brings in the actor, and introduces him.When it was time for RC, Sheila went out and came back in alone.She said he wanted to make an entrance.Uh oh, we thought.That can’t be a good sign.

A moment later the door bursts open and this fat sloth bursts in.He’s wearing just a t-shirt and shorts and carrying a large garbage bag over his shoulder (a la Dave).Oh, and he’s SOAKING WET.

We were a little startled but kept it together.He began reading with Sheila and then peeled off his t-shirt.Why we don’t know.He continued reading but now, for some inexplicable reason, he dropped his shorts.All he was wearing was his tighty-whities.And since they were soaked they were completely transparent.In other words, little Willy had now joined the reading.

Amazingly, Sheila managed to keep reading with him.David and I tried to remain composed but the absurdity of this was just too much.We both started laughing.

RC came to the Kampua’a, God of rain speech.He crossed to the window, stood in front of it, rattled the blinds (to represent thunder) and bellowed out his speech.At the same time a young couple, probably tourists, were walking down the street.We could see them from our angle.The couple turned to the noise and the girl went bat shit, screaming in utter terror.

By now David and I were rolling on the floor.RC must’ve felt he was KILLING.He did the last few lines with even greater panache.We’re now on the floor, tears streaming, sides hurting from laughing so hard.What do you say to this guy?We managed “Well, okay, we haven’t seen that before.”He thanked us for his time, gathered up his clothes and the garbage bag.We told him he could put his clothes back on but he said, “No no, I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”With that he walks into the outer office.Now we hear six actresses scream at the top of their lungs.We’re rolling on the floor again.

RC goes out into the hall to dress.The CHEERS offices were at the other end of the hallway.The CHEERS writers came out to see what was going on.From our office we heard those screams, which set us off for another twenty minutes.

Obviously, RC didn’t get the part.But for five minutes I must admit we were considering bringing him to the network.

February 15, 2007

The difficulty in securing an agent is not confined to those writers just starting out. I tried to get a theatrical agent when I wrote my play a few years ago and hit a brick wall, even with my resume. And I didn’t list AfterMASH so I know it’s not that.

The Hollywood literary agency that represented me did not have a theater department so when I wrote my play a few years ago I decided to get a second agent to handle that facet of my career. Unlike these major conglomerates with three letters that handle screenwriters, theatrical agencies are all boutique. Going down the list it seemed every Jewish girl who wouldn’t go out with me now has an agency.

I made a few calls and found no one was interested. The fact that (a) I wasn’t 25, and (b) they couldn’t cash in on movie rights made me persona non representita. And this was before anyone even bothered to read my play.

Through a playwright friend, I was referred to one agent – we’ll call her Beth B. I had a nice conversation with her, she said she really wasn’t looking to take on new clients but wanted to read my play. So I sent it along with a resume. Two weeks later I get a letter from her. The first sentence was “Ohmygod, I had no idea you co-created ALMOST PERFECT!” She went on to say it was her favorite show, the writing was brilliant, she wrote a letter to CBS complaining when they cancelled it, it was like we were in her bedroom, and she was often confused for our star, Nancy Travis. I thought – I am IN!

Next paragraph – pass. Okay. Whatever.

A few months later I was in New York and decided to call her again. Sometimes when people meet they click and who knows? Maybe she’d have a change of heart. She agreed to meet with me.

It took three trains to get down to her agency. Every other agency was in mid-town, in the theatre district. This one was in the land of discount sneakers and checks cashed while you wait. Once there, after waiting a good half hour, Beth B. finally appeared and ushered me back to her office. My first thought upon seeing her was – Nancy Travis? The only thing she had in common with Nancy Travis was that they both breathed air. Beth B. was large, horn rimmed glasses, and had giant frizzy Carole King hair.

After the pleasantries, she explained that she liked to represent hot young playwrights who lived in New York. The key to her was they’d be able to go to openings and readings and be seen in all the right places.

I said, “what if I produced my play in LA and it got good reviews?” She said that would be disastrous for it ever getting mounted in New York. I suggested that maybe the New York theatre scene was a tad elitist, fully expecting her to back off and say “No, no, not at all.” Instead, she said proclaimed, “Yes, that’s right.” I was a little thrown and wondered if New York had the theatre to support it. “Suessical? Thousand Clowns with Tom Sellick? Annie Get Your Gun with Crystal Bernard? There weren’t exactly new Arthur Miller or Tennessee Williams pieces starring Brando or Burton coming in this season.”

It was clear we were not “clicking”. So finally, I asked Beth B. what advice she could give me? She thought for a moment and finally said, “Write”. I said, “Excuse me?” She repeated it. “Write. I find that the first play is an introduction, the second gets a reading, the third gets a workshop, and the fourth maybe gets a production. So just keep writing.”

I nodded and finally said, “Beth, that’s great advice. In fact, it’s the same advice I’ve been giving young writers… for THIRTY YEARS. But since I’ve had more of my work produced on a national level than all your clients combined times ten I think I can SKIP A STEP.”

Beth B. was not on the invite list for my reading last Monday.

I know it’s discouraging when an agent doesn’t want you, but always remember, there are plenty of agents out there that YOU don’t want. If it takes more time to find a better match it’s worth it.

February 14, 2007

For all you relatively new readers to this blog, whenever I travel I file a travelogue. Just back from a trip so...

Went to New York for a reading of my play, UPFRONTS AND PERSONAL on February 12th. I figured, what better way to celebrate Abraham Lincoln’s birthday than at a theater?

Brought my long underwear. Okay, I looked like Mr. Incredible but no one saw me other than the maid who didn’t knock. On Fox5’s five day forecast for Tuesday it showed a low of 13 and described it as “chilly”. CHILLY??!! Are they kidding?? I’m here to tell you, it was downright “nippy”!

Actually, on Tuesday the low was 8. It’s the coldest weather they’ve had in two years and it lasted all week. Forget “nippy”. It was on the “cool” side.
But at least you can finally get a ticket to THE PRODUCERS. Of course, it now stars Tony Danza. (I wish that was a joke but it’s not.)

It was “Fashion Week” in New York although I obviously didn’t get the memo (wearing a stocking cap that someone affectionately likened to a condom). The world’s most successful bulimics converged on Manhattan to show off clothes only Nicole Richie could wear.

Taxi fares have gone up. And worse, some feature TV screens where you can watch NY10: Taxi Entertainment. Why look out the window and thrill to the sights of this vibrant city when you can watch STUDIO 60 promos and horseracing bloopers?

And now cabbies are all on cellphones…arguing… in languages only Borat could understand.

New hope for troubled marriages – there’s now a trapeze school on the Hudson River.

Stopped by Ellen’s Stardust Diner, a 50’s themed Times Square malt shop where the waiters and waitresses all hope to be discovered by singing “Suddenly Seymour” on a constant loop. Please stop long enough to take my order!

Ellen’s is the G-rated version of Lucky Cheng’s where all the waiters are drag queens. “Suddenly Seymour” has a whole new spin.

There’s one stretch of Madison Avenue where there’s no Starbucks for two whole blocks!! Oh how I miss the days of Chock Full o’ Nuts and Nedicks. I also miss musicradio 77WABC but every Saturday night they revert back to their heritage days. It’s audio bliss. All that’s missing is Dan Ingram and Cousin Brucie having an orgasm every time Gimbels has extended store hours.

It’s worth seeing THE LITTLE DOG LAUGHED at the Cort theatre just for Julie White. She was hilarious as the flamboyant easy-target Hollywood agent. For the specific jokes, see any FRASIER episode where Harriet Harris guest-stars.

Isaiah Thomas’ Knicks continue to struggle. Papers are calling it the “Thomas Clown Affair”. Since they were playing my beloved Clippers I had to swing by the Garden and check it out. I did not let my Clippers allegiance be known, not for fear of getting beaten up but because I don’t like being laughed at. A couple of idiots actually wore Clippers jerseys. Turns out they were players.

I should have gone the following night when Justin Timberlake performed. Or the night after when crews were preparing the hockey rink.

Speaking of hockey, how popular are the New Jersey Devils? Their televised game Saturday night drew 736 households. Out of 7.4 MILLION. I think even the CW would cancel a show that bad.

Nice try. There’s a “Cheesesteak Factory”.
Britney Spears was in town. Thought I saw her but it was just some other tramp throwing up in the street (or maybe a supermodel?). Note to Britney: Stop wearing the Star of David! Jews have enough problems.

Tony Danza in THE PRODUCERS?? David Hasselhoff wasn’t available? Oh that’s right. He’s starring in THE PRODUCERS at the Paris Spa in Las Vegas (sadly, also not a joke).

Near Soho is a hotel called the Rivington. From nearby roofs you can see right into their bathrooms and watch people taking showers. Inside the showers it must appear there’s one-way glass. There’s not. But to protect the all-important privacy of the guests, the hotel guarantees that no one can hear them sing.

Only in New York: A home-instruction schoolteacher billed the city for $5,864 for a 15 year boy who died six months earlier. Her justification: “I teach dead people”. Where she’s going she can tutor Al Capone.

A move is underway to ban ipod use on city streets. Crossing Lexington Ave. is not the time to catch up on last week’s DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES.

One “chilly” night I asked my cabbie to drive right into the lobby and leave me off by the elevators. Cost me an extra buck but it was worth it. Although, whatever the Khazakstani word for “pussy” is, I think he called me that as he sped away.

Does anyone other than coat check girls love this weather?

The NBC Experience store sells THE BIGGEST LOSER t-shirts. They know their clientele. I asked if there were any 20 GOOD YEARS mugs left. Seems they’re out. Same with their KIDNAPPED action figures.

Restaurant recommendation: “Il Cantinori” at 32E. 10th St. The guy next to us eats there five times a week. Okay, that’s nuts but the food and atmosphere are really terrific. It’s in the Village where funky local shops meet the Virgin MegaStore.

Tried to get a tour of Sirius Radio. Despite my twenty years of major market broadcast experience I was still deemed “just another schmuck off the street” so my request was denied. Reason #2877 why XM is better.

Ted Turner has a new restaurant – Ted’s Montana Grill in midtown. He has a huge buffalo head mounted and you just know he’d like one of Jane Fonda to go along with it.

Even Filene’s Basement has a great view!

The play reading went great. And I can’t wait to dive back into the script and make it greater. Thanks to my amazing cast (Chip Zien, Joanna Gleason, David Schramm, David Rasche, Andrew Rannells, Malcolm Gets, Nell Teare, Jonathan Todd Ross, Mike McCann), director (Janet Brenner), and everyone at CAP-21. So now I can say I’ve had a play off-Broadway that closed in one night!

Another perk: getting to meet a few of you readers. Thanks for coming out and laughing. Any chance any of you have a few million dollars you'd like to invest in a play???

A giant snowstorm was burying Buffalo and Syracuse (11 feet!) and was scheduled to slam Gotham the exact minute we were due to depart. So we managed to hop an earlier flight to Burbank. Of course we were still delayed due to weather. And that would have been okay except the flights to Buffalo and Syracuse left right on-time.

Didn’t make it to everyone’s favorite Indian fast food joint, “Curry in a Hurry” this trip. Maybe next time when Tony Danza is playing Frankie Valli in JERSEY BOYS.

February 13, 2007

Most guys don’t love Valentine’s Day. It’s a holiday designed to trap them. If you’re dating more than one woman, you’re dead. If you get the wrong gift, you’re dead. If the gift is too cheap or too elaborate, you’re dead. If you get her a humorous card with Bush on the front you’re dead (although in that case you deserve to be).

Or worse, they love the gift and card too much. Then you’re REALLY dead.

My problem with Valentine’s Day is that it’s also my birthday. Try going out to a nice celebration dinner when every restaurant is packed, all the prices are jacked way up, and everyone is trying so hard to create a “romantic atmosphere” that when their date isn’t looking they’re popping Lexapros like Tic Tacs.

Still, not to be a cynic I would like to offer an explanation for what love really is. It comes from that font of romance -- an episode of TAXI (written by Ken Estin).
Louie is trying to win back his girlfriend, Zena. He asks if she loves him. She says she doesn’t know what love is. He tells her she’s in luck because he does. And he’s the only person alive who can say that. He’s read what everyone else says love is and they’re always wrong. She finally asks him what it is, and Louie says:

“Love is the end of happiness!

The end. Because one day all a guy’s got to do to be happy is to watch the Mets. The next day you gotta have Zena in the room watching the Mets with you. You don’t know why. They’re the same Mets, it’s the same room…but you gotta have Zena there.”

That to me expresses more heartfelt love than any bouquet or bling or blowout dinner. Maybe you should change your plans and just get together in her apartment. Especially since I still don't have dinner reservations and would prefer not celebrating my birthday at Taco Bell.

The reading went well. I'm still alive. More details later but thanks again to all the incredibly talented and dedicated people who made it happen. One was Mike McCann who read the stage directions. I felt bad because before the reading I cut half his lines. Here's why:

There was an organization in New York a few years ago that held screenplay readings. They provided the theatre, casting director, publicity, and audiences. Okay, it was in a neighborhood that gang members wouldn’t enter, but still. I submitted a spec I had written and it was selected. They also provided an editor who would thin out stage directions if I was agreeable. Long stage directions read aloud bogged down the readings. The editor’s cuts would be merely suggestions. I said, “Sure, bring it on”, knowing full well that my stage directions tended to be lean and mean and he would find very little to trim.

A week later I received his draft. Holy shit! There were cross-outs EVERYWHERE. Page after page, lines drawn through my well chiseled stage directions. What the fuck?!

Then I started going through it carefully. And damn, he was right!! Redundant, unnecessary words and sentences were flagged throughout. I wound up keeping 90% of his changes. And now when I write stage directions I always think of him. Would he cut this?

I can’t state this strongly enough – less is more. Get out your samurai sword and CUT.
I know, I know. You’re going to say that film is a visual medium. You need to describe settings, create moods, convey the excitement of action scenes. And words are your only tool. That’s true, but here’s the thing…

Readers don’t read stage directions.

Even the ones who say they do, don’t. If they see a big block of direction they skip it. (Writer/director, Billy Wilder was once asked if a director needs to know how to write and he said, “No, a director needs to know how to read.”)

It’s up to you to find clever super economical ways to convey your mood, world, action, etc. And here’s the good news. It’s often easier than you think. You just have to be in that mindset. Instead of…

INT. APARTMENT – DAY

Jessica enters, puts her hands to her mouth, and staggers two steps backwards when she sees the condition of the apartment. There is clutter everywhere. Soiled laundry strewn about the floor that’s under an inch of dust. Remnants of take out Chinese dinners and boxes containing half eaten cold pizzas are piled high on a coffee table already littered with magazines, unopened mail, and random CD’s separated from their jewel cases. Jackets hang on every chair. Filled ashtrays provide a stale aroma.

…what about??

INT. APARTMENT – DAY

A disaster. Jessica enters, stunned.

The reader gets it. Remember, this is not a John Updike novel. Think in terms of words like “upscale, lived in, boyishly handsome, bookish, early Ikea”.

If you do have an action sequence, break it up into short paragraphs. It’s easier to read and helps create the flow and tension.

Another trick I use is to sprinkle a joke or two in the stage directions as an incentive and reward for reading them (kind of like what I’ve done in this post).

Finally, when the script’s all done and the stage directions are air tight, I go through it once again and thin the hell out of them.

That's what I did with my play. But what Mike did get to read, he did beautifully.

February 12, 2007

Monday night is the reading of my play, UPFRONTS AND PERSONAL at CAP 21 in New York. I’ve got a great cast, great director (Janet Brenner), and great venue. So what that means is: if this play bombs I have NO ONE to blame but myself. I can’t pin it on the network, or the studio, or the editing, camera angles, sound, whatever. So I’m mostly very excited, but there’s a part of me that’s saying “Am I nuts? What the hell am I doing this for?” I’ll let you tomorrow how it went.

But for those of you not attending, here’s a small portion. It’s late in the second act. Gary (Chip Zien) and Beth (Joanna Gleason: pictured) are long time writing partners who have to come up with a new direction for their show by a 4:00 meeting with the network. They’re under tremendous stress and Gary hasn’t slept in two days.

INT. HOTEL SUITE – MORNING

GARY
Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get something down. It’s always better to have something so at least you have something to change. It’s almost nine now. Let’s say by eleven we have something. Anything. Doesn’t have to be great. But at least it’ll be a start.

BETH
(yawning) Get out the pad.

GARY
Great. We can do this. You’ll see.

HE GRABS THE PAD, HAS PEN POISED AT THE READY. SHE SITS ON THE COUCH READY TO WORK.

LIGHTS DOWN. A BEAT, THEN LIGHTS BACK UP.

THEY ARE STILL PRETTY MUCH IN THE SAME POSITIONS.

GARY
Okay. Let’s make a vow. By 1:00 let’s come up with something.

LIGHTS DOWN. A BEAT, THEN LIGHTS UP.

BETH IS STILL ON THE COUCH. GARY IN FRUSTRATION IS BANGING HIS HEAD AGAINST THE WALL.

BETH
Gary, stop that!

GARY
It’s 2:30.

BETH
We’ll get it.

GARY
When?!

BETH
I don’t know. Did you ever think that maybe there is no solution?

GARY
Beth, get real for Godsakes. You reach a certain age and it just goes. You dry up, lose it, have nothing left. It’s over. You kind of hope it’s gradual and not as of 9:00 one morning but that’s the hand we were dealt. See you on the faculty of the DeVry Institute.

BETH
Are you taking that Prozac the staff got you for Christmas?

GARY
No!!! Jesus. Come on. Any idea. It could be crazy. It could be horrible. I dunno. They become superheroes, they sleep together. Anything.

BETH
That’s not bad.

GARY
Yeah! They have magic powers. How ‘bout this? She can turn people into sheep.

BETH
No, you idiot. They sleep together.

GARY
Huh? Oh.

BETH
Yeah. I think that’s it.

GARY
Really?

BETH
It changes the relationship. Can they exist as partners and lovers? There’s a lot of fun we can have with that.

GARY
‘Y’know, in many ways I think I’ve actually gotten better with age.

Steve Allen created THE TONIGHT SHOW. He was an enormously talented man. Additionally, he was an accomplished musician and as if that wasn’t enough, a frequent game show panelist. He wrote numerous books on comedy. He won Emmys and God knows what else. He was one of my idols growing up. And one of my comedy writer heroes was his head writer, Stan Burns. But sometimes talent is not limitless. Mr. Allen could do a lot of things but solving crimes wasn't one of them. Among his many endeavors, he wrote several mystery novels in which he and his wife Jayne Meadows were the two master sleuths. Needless to say there’s just a touch of grandiose ego in these unfathomable tomes. My favorite is MURDER IN VEGAS. Steve and Jayne go to Las Vegas. Steve performs in a big hotel showroom. And the bodies start to fall. The police are baffled. Ah, but not Steverino. Master entertainer by night, dynamite detective by day, Steve Allen does it all. Here are a few ACTUAL hard boiled excerpts. Mickey Spillane, Raymond Chandler – eat your heart out.

********

The first thing I did on coming off stage was to remove my formal dinner jacket and throw it on the couch in my dressing room, picking up a tan windbreaker in its place. From my dressing room closet, I also grabbed a tropical straw hat with a wide brim and a pair of dark glasses: private eye Allen was about to go incognito.********
In the dream, after having erotic, but unfulfilled designs on an unidentified but highly desirable woman, I was suddenly swimming in an ocean at night…

(There’s an image I could live without – Steve Allen seducing a hot babe. Yikes!)*********
Jayne reached out once again and felt the leg, a towel-covered thigh, and slowly her hand traced upward over the unconscious form, until coming to a cord wrapped tightly about Christie’s neck. It had been pulled with such vigorous force that Christie’s neck seemed broken, with her head lying to one side at an impossible angle.

Jayne loosened the cord, though she knew it was too late. Her heart was racing. “Oh dear!” she said. It was impossible to fool herself any longer into thinking this was a faint – Christie Hamilton had been murdered.

*********
I cannot claim the distinction of being Jewish, but a whispered “oy” escaped my lips at that moment.*********
“Mr. Allen… there’s a phone call,” said the pretty slave girl in a pale lavender mini-toga.********
As for young women, some of them seem to feel that since men are titillated by the revelation of a bit of kneecap, breast, shoulder or navel it logically follows that to quickly proceed to a state of either near or totally nudity is a wise course. They are quite mistaken in this. Or, to put the matter in simpler terms, one Sophia Loren is worth a thousand Madonnas.*********

(And finally, I kid you not….)

And this young woman too, was obviously trying to sound as if she had spent her early years in a black ghetto. There’s something dumb about that, ladies and germs.

Ken Levine is an Emmy winning writer/director/producer/major league baseball announcer. In a career that has spanned over 30 years Ken has worked on MASH, CHEERS, FRASIER, THE SIMPSONS, WINGS, EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND, BECKER, DHARMA & GREG, and has co-created his own series including ALMOST PERFECT starring Nancy Travis. He and his partner wrote the feature VOLUNTEERS. Ken has also been the radio/TV play-by-play voice of the Baltimore Orioles, Seattle Mariners, San Diego Padres.